


The Twelve Days of Christmas

by getoffmybarricade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Combeferre Knows Everything, Courf is such a cheater, Courfeyrac Is A Little Shit, Courfeyrac Ships Enjolras/Grantaire, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac is the personification of Christmas, Disasters, Enjoltaire is relevant (ish) but not until later on, Ice Cream, It's Courfeyrac's Fault, M/M, Modern AU, More tags to be added, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, The Twelve Days of Christmas, The cat is called Apollo, christmas markets, monopoly, moving in, no angst!!! Finally!!!, pov will switch per chapter, there’s a cat, triumvirate friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmybarricade/pseuds/getoffmybarricade
Summary: A collection of (consecutive) one shots of the twelve days leading up to Christmas in the Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac household.The triumvirate moving in together right before the holiday season? That can only mean one thing: chaos(“Courfeyrac, are you three or twenty-three?”)
Relationships: Combeferre & Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Les Amis de l'ABC Friendship
Comments: 30
Kudos: 20





	1. Day 1: 14th December

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mind_if_i_slyther_in](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_if_i_slyther_in/gifts).



> Day 1: 14th December 
> 
> Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac move into their new apartment

“-And you’re one hundred percent sure it’s this one?” 

“Enjolras,” Combeferre sighed, “all three of us came to look at the apartment. You’ve literally been here.” 

“I know that but-“ 

“-Enjolras,” Courfeyrac groaned, leaning forwards to rest his head on Enjolras’s back, “will you stop worrying for once in your life? Please?”

Enjolras winced, nodding his head. He looked up at the apartment in front of them; painted pale gray with a white wooden door, roses entwined around the bottom and a sign, made by Grantaire, that read  ** Enjolras, Combeferre, ** and  ** Courfeyrac.  **

“I still think  _ my  _ name should have been first.” Courfeyrac grumbled, jabbing Enjolras in the shoulder with his bony finger. “It’s only because you’re dating Grantaire and he bullies me-“

“-Oh, god. Courfeyrac, you’re like a child.” Combeferre snorted, flicking him on the back of the head. “Be quiet.” 

He fished around in his pockets for the keys to the new apartment, dangling them between his thumb and index finger for a somewhat dramatic effect. And Enjolras appreciated that, he really did, but it was winter and probably about minus three degrees and he really wanted to just get inside. 

“Are you going to let Courf do the honours of being the first person to open the door?” He grinned, bumping his shoulder against Ferre’s lightly.

“Well, technically we’ve all already been in so...”

“I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’ then?” 

Combeferre frowned, looking pointedly away from him and Enjolras chuckled to himself. “My, my, Ferre,” he teased, “I see you’ve succumbed to Courfeyrac’s childish ways.”

“No.” He said hurriedly, “I’m not-“

“-I will have those, thank you very much!” 

Courfeyrac leaped forwards, snatching the apartment keys from Combeferre’s hands, cackling as he sprinted towards the door. And Enjolras really would just say it was karma, or perhaps just Courfeyrac’s alarming habit of  _ always  _ hurting himself, that he put his foot down on literally the one patch of ice on the driveway. 

His arms flailed about in a comedic sense for a few seconds, feet sliding all over the place, eyes and mouth wide with shock. For a moment he struggled to regain his balance; his hand reaching out to supposedly grab hold of whatever was nearest, but there was nothing available, and he crashed to the ground with enough force, and with Combeferre’s combined laugher, to possibly wake the entire neighbourhood. 

Courfeyrac whined, clutching hold of his back in ‘agony’, as Ferre bent down to what Enjolras assumed would be to help him up again. But instead of offering him a hand, he swiped the keys from next to his left foot and bounded up the steps to the porch, laughing the entire way. 

Courfeyrac, obviously, retook to the dramatics, letting himself flop backwards onto the icy gravel. “I’m gonna kick him out for this.” He groaned. 

“Oh you are, are you? 

“Yes. He’d better watch out. I’m coming for him now.” 

“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras chuckled, as he helped him to his feet, teeth chattering in the cold, “are you three or twenty-three?” 

Courfeyrac did not dignify him with an answer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallway they stepped into was painted a pale gray, a few boxes stacked into a corner that Courfeyrac had put there, claiming his arms were too tired to possibly carry anything more. 

Around the corner was the kitchen. The floor was made of wood, surprisingly, the walls a pale blue colour that Enjolras hadn’t realised he’d liked so much when they first looked around. There was a window directly above the sink that looked out into the little porch area outside and either side it was lined with white wooden cabinets. On the left hand side were two patio doors that Enjolras imagined could look very pretty with lights on and opened wide during the summer months. But for now, looking out at the snow was far more satisfactory. 

Combeferre had wandered into the next room whilst Courfeyrac hopped onto the island counter, the top of which was wooden to match the flooring and the rest that same lovely blue. Behind it were three square stools and some lights that hung over top, and Enjolras subconsciously thought that they were going to get broken very quickly. 

He stepped out of the kitchen and into the conjoined living room, immediately noticing that the people who had lived there before him had not hastened to take the sofa. He couldn’t think why, perhaps it was rather on the small side, but with the little armchair they already had it would fit nicely. 

The carpet was thin but surprisingly clean, a white fluffy rug placed under the glass coffee table and the walls painted pale grey. They’d already bought the picture frames to hang up on the back wall, behind the sofa, and he assumed they were what was in the boxes near the door, as they were fragile and the delivery people hadn’t dropped off the rest of their belongings yet. 

Courfeyrac tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the space next to the large window that looked out onto the long driveway. “We’re getting a Christmas tree for there,” he grinned, waving his hands around dramatically as if the tree would magically appear. Enjolras laughed, folding his arms around himself, a huge smile on his face. 

“Ferre!” He called, “Come here.”

“No, you come here!’ was the reply he got, “we need to pick the rooms out.”

“I’m choosing first!” Courfeyrac hollered, sprinting out of the room and leaving Enjolras to trail out after him, shaking his head at his best friend’s insanity. 

When he stepped out into the hallway he noticed the flooring was wooden, along with the door frames, and the walls were painted bright white. He realised they could hang some of Grantaire‘s paintings of their friends on the back wall. 

The first door to their left was claimed by Combeferre. It wasn’t particularly large but also at the same time wasn’t small, and as Ferre didn’t keep much clutter in his room it seemed perfect. The room next door left as a spare one, the smallest. At the end of the hallway was another room but built so that the door was straight ahead of them, instead of going along the corridor like the other four rooms. It was slightly bigger than Combeferre’s, with two windows instead of just one like the others, and Enjolras ended up taking that one. 

The room opposite the spare one was the biggest, not significantly so, but noticeably. Courfeyrac, of course, deemed this one as his own, but neither himself nor Combeferre were particularly bothered by this and happily let him have it, laughing as Courf immediately ordered a hammock to hang from his ceiling. 

“So, when do we get to decorate everything then?” Courfeyrac asked a few hours later as they settled onto the sofa, all three of them somehow managing to fit, with Enjolrasleaning on Ferre, and Courfeyrac leaning on himself. 

“You really can’t just take things one step at a time, can you?” Combeferre said in disbelief, throwing a piece of popcorn at his head. Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out at him, poking him gently in the ribs. 

“It’s called being pro-active, actually.” He said, all matter-of-factly, his shoulders wiggling a little. 

“Right, sure.” Ferre snorted, snatching his glasses back off of the other, who had stolen them from his face as he scoffed. He slapped Courfeyrac’s hand away as he tried to stop him from reaching behind Enjolras to take them again. 

“Get off, you idiot.” 

“They’re in my way,” he complained, kicking at his shins. Enjolras, meanwhile, decided he felt very much like he was in the middle of an argument between petty five year olds. 

“I’m not even sat near you.” Combeferre said incredulously, his eyes going wide. 

“They still are.” Courfeyrac mumbled, glaring at him through half closed eyes. “And I’m starving, when are we getting dinner?” 

“Oh, hold of you to assume we’re ordering take out,” Enjolras snorted, looking pointedly at the man sat curled up against him. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, reaching for the phone laying on the sofa arm.

  
“Where am I calling?”

Enjolras eyes him suspiciously for a moment before the corner of his lips started twitching up and he grinned without meaning to, unable to keep a straight face. 

“That Thai place down the road?” He looked to Ferre for confirmation, who nodded, and Courfeyrac scrunched his face up in victory, humming under his breath. “We could just cook, you know?” Enjolras sighed. 

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow pointedly, pausing through punching in the phone number, and stared at Enjolras with eyes that somehow managed to look at him sarcastically, if that was even possible. 

“We could, sure,” he said, “but I’m not cooking and Ferre’s half asleep, so that would really just leave you.” 

“Okay, so?” Enjolras laughed, adamant even though he had no intention of cooking whatsoever. 

“Enj,” Ferre said tiredly, patting him on the shoulder almost in comfort, “I love you, I really do, but your cooking skills are atrocious.” 

“They are not!” He frowned, whilst knowing full well he was completely correct. His cooking skills were in fact horrific and he’d already been banned from using the kitchen to cook anything that wasn’t already cold. 

“They really are,” Courfeyrac said, mock-sympathetically, “so we’d just end up getting take out anyway so it would all be a huge waste of time.” 

“You bully me.” Enjolras stated, but he wriggled down onto the sofa anyway, his head resting on his elbow. “And we’re watching a Christmas film.” 

“Fine by me,” Courfeyrac sang, his head bopping along to a song he was probably singing only in his head. 

A few minutes passed in almost silence, comfortable nonetheless, with Combeferre flicking endlessly through channels, when Courfeyrac suddenly shouted, 

“Elf!”

Enjolras looked at Combeferre in confusion, who also just shrugged, and then raised his brow at Courf. 

“Excuse me?” 

He knew he was short, but Courfeyrac really wasn’t that much taller than him. In fact-

“Elf.” He repeated, taking the remote from Combeferre’s hands, “with Will Ferrell. We’re watching ‘Elf’.” 

“Oh,” Ferre said, his face splitting into a grin, “I love that film.” 

Enjolras said nothing, quietly hoping Courfeyrac didn’t notice his unconvincing nod. 

“Enjolras?” Courf said, his sharp eyes not missing anything. 

“Courfeyrac?” 

“If you tell me you do not like this film I will kick you out of the apartment right now. I don’t care that we just moved in.” 

“It’s not that I _don’t_ like  it...” he said, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Yes?” 

“I’ve just...never seen it.” 

From the way both Combeferre and Courfeyrac gasped in apparent horror, you’d have thought that the pair of them where five year olds who’d been told by a family member that Santa Claus didn’t exist. 

He was still convinced Courfeyrac would react that way if someone told him that now, if he was being honest. 

“That is blasphemous!” Courfeyrac shouted, whilst Combeferre smacked him around the back of the head, saying, 

“Enjolras! In the nineteen years I’ve known you why have you not mentioned this?” 

“Sorry, sorry, Jesus,” he grumbled, elbowing the pair of them. “I’m watching it now, aren’t I?” 

“Yes you fucking are.” Courfeyrac stated, still looking at him in disbelief. “And you better bloody well enjoy it.” 

And so, if you’d asked ten-year-old Enjolras all those years ago if he’d ever think that he’d be able to spend his time living with his two best friends, he’d have called you crazy. Deluded, even. 

But now? 

Now he was convinced that these twelve days leading up the Christmas were going to be the best ones of his life. 


	2. Day 2: 15th December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac is way too over enthusiastic when it comes to anything even remotely related to Christmas. 
> 
> Letting him choose the tree probably wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

Combeferre would say that the amount of time that it took for two people to buy a Christmas tree would vary depending on different factors. 

And, really, that’s just common sense. 

For example, if someone lived a while away from the specific place they were buying from, it may take them a little longer than someone who lived much closer. 

Or say, they decided to drive there during one of the busier hours. 

But whatever. 

His point was that for two people who lived within walking distance from the nearest garden centre-quite literally five minutes away-it should not take them more than half an hour at the very most. 

But then again, he had gone with Courfeyrac of all people. Courfeyrac; who spoke to every person he saw and wandered off in the direction of everything even remotely glittery. 

Honestly, what had he expected? 

Well, not for it to take that long, he can assure you. 

“It took you  _four hours_.”  Enjolras repeated, tearing his eyes away from his computer screen to stare up at him. Combeferre sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, and sunk onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter. 

His feet were sore from walking in endless circles and it felt like someone had whacked him squarely on his back with a bat. 

“I’m aware of that, believe it or not.” 

“I know that, but four hours? Seriously?”

“Uh, guys? A little help here?” 

Combeferre turned around to see Courfeyrac struggling to get the tree in through the front door, his face screwed up in concentration and his hair full of pine needles and falling into his eyes. 

He considered helping, after all he  _ had  _ made him carry the damn thing all the way home...

But then he reminded himself that it was only five minutes. Which brought him back to his original point of that it should not have taken them this long. 

“Also,” Enjolras pointed out, Courfeyrac’s plead for help going right over his head, “that is the largest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen. Is it even going to fit?” 

“Um, yes? An eloquent observation, Enjolras. But it’s a large tree. Not a bloody mountain, or whatever. Now will you two get over here and help me move it?” Courfeyrac said loudly, sneezing as a pine needle went up his nose. 

“Don’t get your germs on our tree please, Courf.” Combeferre said pointedly, throwing a look at him as his eyes watered. 

“Sympathetic, as always.” 

It really was a very large tree. 

Oh, and that was the other problem.

Because god forbid Courfeyrac behave like an adult and choose a sensibly priced, sensibly tall tree. Oh no. No, he had to for for the most ridiculously expensive and largest one he could find. 

“I couldn’t tell you why it took us four hours. But next year we’re going and leaving him here.” Combeferre turned back to Enjolras, deciding it would be better to just give his idiotic friend the silent treatment, andletting his head drop to the table, he groaned. He squinted at Courfeyrac, still struggling in vain, and rolled his eyes. “You’re getting pine needles on the floor.” He complained feebly, ignoring the fact that he immediately broke his resolve to not speak to him. 

“That is the least of my concerns,” Courf huffed, “but you’re correct, yes.” 

“You say that like I was double checking a fact with you. Stop dropping pine needles everywhere.” He replied grumpily, running a hand through his hair. “Do we even have a hoover?” he added. 

“Probably not, no.” Enjolras snorted, jabbing viciously at the keys on his laptop whilst glaring at some article on his screen. “Oh you-“ he muttered to no one in particular as an email off of some person popped up. Combeferre frowned at him for a minute and then promptly shut the screen down, Enjolras jumping backwards in his chair like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. 

“Hey!” He protested, reaching for his laptop again, although it was soon snatched out of his reach. 

“You’ve been working all weekend, Enj. Come on, have a break.”

“You sound like Courfeyrac.” He mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. 

“That’s a good thing by the way!” Courf shouted from the hallway. There was the sound of something heavy being dropped and the distinct rustle of leaves, and then Courf’s head popped around the corner, grinning from ear to ear. 

“I suppose it is, occasionally.” Combeferre said thoughtfully, which was true. Courfeyrac lacked what himself and Enjolras had; common sense, but he was generally a fun, thoughtful person. 

“You should tell me that more often.”

“Oh, please,” Enjolras scoffed, tying his hair up onto a bun at the back of his head. He pulled a few strands out at the front and shook his head to loosen his curls, “his egos already big enough.” 

“Courfeyrac,” Ferre said suddenly, the corner of his lips twitching up. 

“Yeah?”

“Have you really been trying to force that tree through the front door for an entire fifteen minutes?”

“Oh no,” Courfeyrac said sarcastically, shaking his head, “I’ve been doing it just fine without your help. Don’t bother yourself.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t offering. Only, maybe it would fit through the patio doors in the kitchen?” 

Courfeyrac took a deep breath, like he was trying not to laugh, or to start rambling about how he was probably wrong, but then he stopped. He closed his mouth abruptly, blinking a few times. 

“Oh.” He said quietly, scratching at the back of his neck. “Maybe you’re right?” 

“What was that?”

“What?” Courf shot back quickly, his eyes widening innocently. “I can’t hear you, Ferre. Maybe I should get my ears tested out?” He smiled sweetly and disappeared through the front door, the tree following him a few seconds later. 

Combeferre rolled his eyes, looking back over at Enjolras, who had reattached himself to his computer screen. 

“Oi!” He said sharply. Enjolras started, almost jumping out of his skin. He slammed the screen down, spinning around on his stood. 

“Hm?” He asked. 

“I thought we agreed on no work over the holidays?” 

“Oh no,  you  said that. In fact, no, you didn’t even say that. You said, and I quote,” and god, Combeferre really did have the most difficult friends, “you said, ‘come on, have a break.’ I never agreed with you. I have the right to continue, if I wish.” 

“Stop being difficult,” he snapped, pulling Enjolras’s hair out of its hair tie. He frowned and swatted Combeferre’s hands away, trying to catch his legs with his foot as he dodged around the table. 

“Courfeyrac!” He called, wondering what the other man had gotten himself up to. 

“Coming!” Came the reply. He heard a rustle and a crash, the sound of doors being thrown open, and then in came Courfeyrac, struggling to walk for the huge tree blocking his vision. 

So Combeferre took pity on him, grabbing Enjolras’s elbow and pulling him out of his chair. 

“Hey, hey, no. What’re we doing?” Enj groaned, trying to wriggle free of his grasp like a pre-school kid. 

“The guy has no upper arm strength,” Combeferre laughed, dragging him over to where Courfeyrac was now attempting to haul the tree into the living room with no success. “let’s give him a hand.” 

“Okay, that’s just rude.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took them maybe less than ten minutes to stand the tree upright correctly. And whilst Combeferre and Enjolras made sure it was securely fixed, Courfeyrac wandered into the spare room to bring in all the Christmas decorations they’d got out earlier. 

Honestly, they were really just Courfeyrac’s decorations; the guy owned a ridiculous amount. But there was no real problem in it considering Combeferre had only a few and Enjolras even less. 

And now, don’t get that confused with the idea that the two of them were not Christmassy people-that’s not true. It was just that usually Combeferre went over to visit his parents over the holidays and they would already have their own. And he wasn’t entirely sure what Enjolras did, but he knew that he was forced into meeting with his parents on Christmas Day, and Combeferre’s own lived in Greece, so it wasn’t even as if they could meet up. 

And Enjolras did not have, well, pleasant parents to say the least. 

Courfeyrac, on the other hand, was about as eccentric as it was possible to be. 

And his idea of celebrating Christmas including blaring Christmas music out at around one in the morning almost every day since bloody November. 

Really, it was futile trying to discourage him. 

“Will you pass me another bauble?” Courfeyrac asked, whilst balancing precariously on one leg on a step ladder. 

“No, not a plastic one,” he complained as Enjolras passed him one over his shoulder. “I need a real, glass one.” He let the bauble drop to the floor, although Combeferre did wonder if he’d actually just dropped it. 

“Yeah, no chance.” Combeferre scoffed, placing the bauble back in his palm. “You’ve already broken two of the glass ones and knocked over an entire if bottle of wine.” 

“On accident.” Courfeyrac grumbled. 

“It’s a pretty colour anyway-look at it.” 

“Yeah, it’s red. I’ve seen it.” 

Enjolras snorted, pausing where he was rummaging around in a box for tinsel. 

“It’s gold.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Courfeyrac said hurriedly. “I’m just getting confused because they’re  _ all  _ either red or gold. Did we really have to colour co-ordinate it?” 

“Yes. We did.” Enj said stubbornly, hanging tinsel over the fireplace. “You and Ferre chose the tree-“

“-Courfeyrac chose the tree.” 

“-So I get to pick how we decorate it.” 

Combeferre chuckled and shook his head, unable to keep the grin off of his face. He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend his Christmas this year. 

“And it’s two colours, Courf. It’s not that confusing.”

“Whatever.” Courfeyrac sighed, hopping some off of his stepladder. “I’m getting a drink, does anyone want one?” 

Combeferre didn’t reply and continued to try and hook a particularly fiddly ornament onto the branches. Enjolras replied with something or another and then wandered over to where Combeferre was standing. 

“What are you doing?” He shrieked suddenly, slapping his shoulder and snatching the ornament from his hands.

“Hey! Woah, what?” 

“Combeferre, that’s a  _ red  _ bauble.” 

“What have you two got with stating colours? I can see that.”

“You’re putting it next to another red bauble. You can’t do that.” 

Combeferre frowned, his eyes scanning the colours either side of his current one. And then he laughed. 

“No, see. That’s a red  _ sparkly  _ one. It doesn’t count.”

Enjolras just continued to stare at him with wide, concerned eyes. He shook his head wildly. 

“It does count.” He went to move it to a different spot on the tree but Combeferre sighed, stopping him by grabbing his elbow. 

“Give it back. That took me ages to put on there.”

“Well then you need to level up your bauble skills.” 

“Just put it there.” He said exasperatedly. 

“No.” 

“Oh my god, you’re like Courfeyrac.” 

“I am not!” Enjolras protested, stomping his foot in a very Courfeyrac-ish manner. Combeferre raised an eyebrow pointedly. “I’m just making sure the tree looks good.”

“Yeah, well me too.”

“Enjolras-“ 

“Hey, can you two stop arguing please?” 

They turned around at the same time that Courfeyrac spoke and were both equally surprised to find Courfeyrac stood on a box with a sparkly silver microphone-god knows where he got it-and red tinsel draped around his neck. 

<https://youtu.be/j3fSknbR7Y4>

“Wasn’t he just in the kitchen like a second ago?” Enjolras whispered, tilting his head to the side. 

“I’ve no idea how he got there so fast.” 

The same time that the music started playing, Courfeyrac held up one finger to silence the pair of them. 

Enjolras made a little, “oop-“ noise and Combeferre tried to hold in his laugher. 

“ _It’s Christmas time_ ,”  Courfeyrac sang, producing a pair of sunglasses from seemingly nowhere. His face didn’t show one fleeting second of emotion and Combeferre genuinely didn’t know what was more bizarre; the randomness of it all or the fact that his face was so oddly serious.  “ _There’s no need to be afraid.”_

He pointed the microphone at Enjolras, who looked like he was about to panic for a second but then he burst into laughter, but then he waved it away, seemingly content to just watch Courfeyrac dance around like it was a completely normal thing to do.

Not that Combeferre thought dancing in itself was abnormal. No. He just wasn’t sure if Courfeyrac waving his arms around like he was batting away five hundred bees and simultaneously being chased by a bull, could be considered anything close to dancing.

_ “At Christmas time we let in light and we banish shade.”  _

Courfeyrac hopped down off of his box and grabbed Enjolras, wrapping the tinsel around his neck so that it covered the both of them. Enjolras then stole the glasses from his face and placed them on his own, giving in to Courfeyrac’s infectious cheer.

“ _But in our world of plenty,”_

Courfeyrac was becoming steadily more incoherent as his singing became mingled with his laughter.  “ _We can spread a smile of joy. Throw your arms around the world-“_

Both Enjolras and Courfeyrac turned to him at the exact same time, offering him the microphone. He grinned and grabbed hold of it throwing his arm around their shoulders. 

“- _At Christmas time!”_

He wasn’t sure at what point they finished decorating, or when Courfeyrac stopped singing, or even when they brought out that bottle of baileys. But, hey. Who was complaining? 

Certainly not him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!!  
> How was it?  
> I’m sorry but that’s just a classic Christmas song and Courfeyrac would absolutely react to it like this  
> Anyway if you enjoyed please drop me a comment and let me know :) 
> 
> Thanks :)


	3. Day 3: 16th December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When deciding to annoy Enjolras, Courfeyrac finds a stray kitten in the road. 
> 
> Does he check with either of his friends on what to do? 
> 
> Of course not.

Courfeyrac woke up to the sound of someone blasting music at a ridiculous volume. 

He sat up groggily, the floorboards vibrating beneath him, and ran a hand over his face. Truthfully, he didn’t remember much of the night before, and he assumed that was what had given him his pounding headache. He groaned and rolled over, but the music was still blaring out far too loudly for his liking. 

Grumbling to himself he rolled out of his bed, still wrapped up in the duvet with it trailing behind him, and stumbled into the kitchen. The music was even louder in there, echoing off of the walls, and he sunk onto one of the stools. 

“Ah, you’re awake I see?” Someone said cheerfully. He raised his head, his eyes still half closed, and peered up at the speaker. 

It was Enjolras, funnily enough, which struck him as strange considering he was definitely not a morning person. 

Unless...

He glanced up the clock above the window, squinting at the bright light, and realised that it was already early afternoon. 

“Obviously I’m awake.” He complained, “Why so extreme with the music, may I ask?”

“Courfeyrac, it’s nearly half past two in the afternoon.” Enjolras laughed, halfway through brewing a pot of coffee, “you had to get up at some point.” 

“False.” He mumbled, “I would have happily slept until tomorrow morning.” 

He sat up, stretching his back, but wincing as the sudden movement sent a stab of pain through his skull. “Where’s Combeferre?” He asked, noticing the absence of the other man. “And why haven’t you two got a hangover?” 

“He’s gone out to the shops because  _ someone  _ didn’t go yesterday when we asked.” Enjolras said, emphasising his point by flicking a stray grape at him. 

“He really should have gotten around to going yesterday then. Why didn’t he?”

“Because we asked you.” 

Courfeyrac didn’t dignify him with a response, looking hopefully over at the stupidly strong coffee Enjolras was sipping. Maybe he did have more of a hangover then he first assumed. 

“I’m going for a shower.” He announced, standing up suddenly. 

“Good.” Enjolras replied, scrolling through his phone. 

“Rude. And save me some of that coffee.” He added over his shoulder. 

Enjolras ignored him. 

He wandered down the hallway, resting his head against the cool tiles of the bathroom walls when he entered. It didn’t really achieve much but it felt more soothing than just wandering around with a hand pressed against his forehead and complaining bitterly. 

He ran the shower cold, deciding that it might be a good way to wake him up, and even though he stood there shivering it was surprisingly relaxing. Either way, he felt remarkably more refreshed. 

When he re-entered the kitchen, Enjolras was still stood there leaning against the counter. He looked up as Courfeyrac came in and placed his mug in the sink, quickly washing it out. Which reminded him off the pot of coffee still stood on the counter. 

He grabbed at it eagerly, snatching a mug from the nearest cupboard. But as he went to pour it he found only a few lone droplets. He made a disgusted noise, spinning around on the spot and waving the empty pot in Enjolras’s face. 

Enjolras blinked in confusion and raised an eyebrow. “That is not how you get somebody’s attention.” He said pointedly, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms. 

“What is this?” Courfeyrac said accusingly, waving the pot within an inch of Enjolras’s nose. Enjolras moved his head back a little to prevent himself from being hit, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s a coffee pot, Courfeyrac.”

“Why is it empty?” 

“Well, I’m assuming because it’s contents have been drunk?” 

“Yes.” Courfeyrac replied, setting it down loudly on the counter next to him. Enjolras shook his head in apparent disbelief, although Courf wasn’t really sure why because surely it was an obvious crime to  not  have saved him any. “And who drunk all of it?” 

“There’s instant coffee over there.”

“I don’t want instant coffee.”

Enjolras paused for a moment and then clicked his tongue, turning away. 

“Enjolras?” He repeated, tapping him incessantly on the shoulder until he turned around again. 

“Jesus-“

“-I thought you weren’t religious?” Courfeyrac said wickedly, grinning up at him, and knowing it would infuriate him. 

“I’m not.” Enjolras said shortly, storming out of the kitchen and grabbing his coat from the hallway. 

“Hey, wait. Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting Grantaire for coffee.” 

“How can you possibly drink more of it? You’re like a machine.” 

“With ease.” Enjolras winked. And no, no, no. Winking was strictly  _ Courfeyrac’s  _ thing. 

Enjolras’s was yelling at people. 

Where Courfeyrac fake flirted and messed around, Enjolras screamed at the top of his lungs in the streets. 

“Oh no you did not.”He muttered under his breath, following Enjolras out of the kitchen door. He watched as the other man grabbed his phone, his wallet, his coat and finally his car keys. 

“Bye Enj!” He called sweetly, waiting innocently in the doorway. Enjolras looked at him strangely over his shoulder but said nothing, shaking his head as he opened his car door. As he pulled out of the driveway, Courfeyrac cackled to himself and grabbed both his set of house keys and Enjolras’s too, tucking Enj’s into his jean pockets and locking the door behind him. 

He had no real intention of going anywhere in particular; he just wanted to keep Enjolras locked out of the house in revenge. Petty? Perhaps. But it didn’t bother him. 

He got into his car and turned the radio on, whistling to himself as he did so. He also then realised that there was no real point in even taking Enjolras’s keys with him as if the door the was locked he wouldn’t be able to get them back anyway. But whatever. 

As he turned the corner he looked up just in time to see a flash of ginger and a fluffy tail and he slammed down hard on the brakes, his heart dropping straight to his stomach. He clasped a hand over his mouth, feeling his heart racing at a hundred miles per hour, as he stepped out of his car, peering around the front. 

For a second he went dizzy with shock as he saw this tiny ginger cat sat in the middle of the road and he panicked, thinking that he’d hit the poor thing. But then it’s tail swished and it sloped towards him, curling around his legs in content. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” Courfeyrac said shakily, his nerves still not settled down properly. The kitten just purred and nudged his hand to continue to stroke him. He laughed, half forgetting that his car was still parked in the middle of the road. He scooped the kitten up, placing it momentarily in the seat next to him, and parked on the pavement side instead. 

He spotted an old woman watering her flowers in the garden opposite him and he hurried over, the kitten still safe in his arms. 

He wanted to keep it, he really did, but he was sure he’d find its owner shortly and he couldn’t exactly kidnap (catknap...?) it. 

“Excuse me,” he said, just loud enough to be heard but still quiet enough that he wouldn’t startle her. The woman looked up, offering him a smile. 

“Yes, dear?” 

“You wouldn’t happen to know who this cat belongs to, would you? I found her just now.” 

The woman frowned, shaking her head. 

“I’m sorry, I really have no idea.” She said, “I know most people around here and on my life I can’t think of anybody who even has a cat. Certainly not a kitten.” 

“Oh. Well, thank you anyway.” He smiled. 

As he walked back to his car, he found himself still keeping hold of the kitten. 

And well. 

They didn’t have a collar. And they were so young. And they were alone. 

Would it be so bad after all if maybe he....? 

No. No, no. He couldn’t. 

Could he? 

~~~~~~~~

Apparently he could. 

Because now he was on his way to the local supermarket with a kitten-who he now realised was a she-on his lap and a huge smile. 

He hasn’t come up with a name yet, partly because if he had to let her go it would be too painful, and partly because he just hadn’t successfully thought of one. 

“You’re going to love my friends,” he told the kitten, “Enj loves cats and Ferre likes to pretend he doesn’t but really he does too.”

It had occurred to him that neither of them had any of the supplies that they needed to take care of any sort of pets, so he had decided it would be best to get a head start and be prepared for when the others returned. 

Plus, if he had all of the stuff could they really say no? 

However the fault in his plan didn’t really appear until he had parked and got ready for get out. What exactly did he do with his new kitten whilst he was inside? He couldn’t bring her in with him, could he? He’d be told to leave straight away. 

He rummaged around in the foothold of his car and pulled out the large shopping bag he had brought along last time. The kitten looked at him innocently, big wide eyes and delicate features. 

“Okay,” he said under his breath, “in you get then.” 

He opened the bag, not really expecting anything to happen, but the cat blinked and crawled in, curling up. Courfeyrac laughed out loud and gently picked the bag up, along with a spare, and hurried through the cold into the supermarket. 

Courfeyrac always loved it when the shops were decorated for Christmas; huge trees decked up in golds and purples and deep greens, wreaths of holly and berries hanging from the ceiling and long strings of tinsel lining the shelves in the isles. 

The air just had that Christmassy smell too and he grinned in spite of himself, a new spring in his step as he hummed along to the Christmas music that blasted out of the speakers. 

He wandered down the isles, picking up random things that he hadn’t even intended to buy. He felt a rustle next to him and looked down, seeing the cat’s head pop up and look around. He chuckled to himself but didn’t try and push her back down. It was cute. 

When he reached the section of the store that sold pet products, he realised he wasn’t entirely sure which were the best to buy. So he settled on a bit of everything. 

He picked up different brands and different toys, dumping them in a shopping basket that he picked up on of one of his many circuits of the supermarket. 

He let the kitten sniff around at the things on the shelf, anything she showed particular interest in he bought. 

When his basket was beginning to make his arms strain-which, no, Combeferre wasn’t because he had ‘no upper arm strength’-he began to haul it over to the tills. But just as he rounded the corner he heard a familiar voice a few feet away and flung himself back around again. 

“No, Enjolras, i don’t know where Courfeyrac is. No, look, I doubt he’s gone out just so you wouldn’t be able to get back in.” Combeferre was saying tiredly, his phone resting between his neck and his shoulder as he attempted to single-handedly dragged an overflowing basket of shopping towards the tills. 

Courfeyrac clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. 

It just so happened-and luckily, might he add-that as he set his basket down around the corner, Combeferre turned around. 

Courfeyrac thanked every god in the universe that he’d hidden it before he’d seen. 

“Courf?”

“Oh. Hi, Ferre.” 

He sighed and mumbled into his phone, “one second,”

Combeferre frowned, his brow furrowed. 

“Why are you here?”

“Gee, am I that unpleasant to bump into?” 

“Hilarious. Enjolras seems to think that you’ve left the apartment solely to keep him locked out.” 

Courfeyrac found himself grinning before he really meant to and clapped a hand over his mouth. 

“Courf...” Combeferre said tiredly “will you please go let him back in?” 

“I can’t. I’m on a very important mission, Ferre.” 

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

“Um,” he said hesitantly. 

He looked quickly around the shop and wracked his brains for something to come up with. He grabbed the nearest thing off of the shelf and thrust them in front of Combeferre’s face. He turned the packet around slightly so he could read the label on the front. 

“Pens.” He said triumphantly, “you gotta love them.” 

“Pens?”

“Yep.” He nodded his head enthusiastically and chucked them into Combeferre’s already full basket. “They just keep going missing.” 

“Right...” he said doubtfully, obviously not believing him but too tired to argue. “Well, you could have just rang me and I would have picked them up for you.” 

“My phones dead.”

He felt his pocket vibrate, his ringtone blasting out loudly and he took a deep breath, hoping that maybe if he just ignored it Combeferre wouldn’t realise. 

Unfortunately, Combeferre was not deaf. Blind without his glasses, sure, but apparently he had fully working ears, much to Courfeyrac’s disappointment. 

“Really?” 

“Oh! Would you look at that.” He said unconvincingly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “It’s working again.” He pressed answer without looking at the caller and was immediately hit with a torrent of abuse from a certain angry blonde. 

“Oh. Hello Enjolras.” 

“Enjolras?” Combeferre muttered, turning his head to look at the phone he was still balancing on his shoulder. “Oh, he ended it in me.” 

“No, I’m busy sorry. You’ll have to wait. Bye Enj! Love you!” He quickly pressed ‘end’, hastily shoving his phone back in his pocket. 

There was a sudden movement in his bag as the kitten-still nameless, unfortunately-shuffled around a little. 

Combeferre’s eyes flew to the source of the sound and he stared back up at Courfeyrac with wide eyes. “Your bag just moved.”

“No it didn’t.” 

“Yes, it did.” 

“It didn’t.” 

“Courfeyrac.” 

“Combeferre.” He said in the same tone, wiggling his eyebrows to get a reaction. 

Combeferre just sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“I’m not buying you your pens.” He said shortly. 

“That’s unfortunate.” Courfeyrac deadpanned. 

A moment of bewildered silence fell over them before Courfeyrac grinned brightly and turned on his heel. 

“Goodbye Ferre!” 

He hurried off around the corner, grabbing his basket and heading to one of the tills on the other side of the shop, leaving a very confused Combeferre stood alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~

When he reached the apartment, overloaded with cat food and equipment, he set the kitten on the floor next to him and wandered up the driveway slowly, not excited to be face to face with an irritated Enjolras. 

Sure enough, when he neared the door it was flung open and he found himself looking straight up at said man. 

“Hello.” 

Enjolras opened his mouth as if he was about to shout but then his eyes landed on the kitten next to his feet and he frowned. 

“Courfeyrac, there’s a cat stood next to you.” 

He nodded brightly, dodging past Enjolras and walking into the living room, kitten close on his heels. 

“Courfeyrac, there’s a cat following you around the apartment.” 

“You should apply for a commentator job.” He said, flopping down onto the sofa. He patted his stomach and to his surprise the cat jumped up and curled into a ball, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Courfeyrac, did you buy a cat?” Enjolras half shrieked, slapping a hand to his forehead. 

“Well, I didn’t  _ buy  _ her.” 

“Please tell me I did not just hear correctly.” Combeferre said loudly, storming into the room from the hallway. “Oh my-“

“Ferre, she was just laying in the middle of the road all cold and lonely.” Which was half true anyway. “She’d freeze to death out there tonight.” 

“Courf, look. We can’t-“

“No, no, no. Please? We can’t just  _ leave  _ her.” 

“Courfeyrac we have no room for a cat.” Combeferre said flatly, already motioning for her to get off of the sofa. To his delight, she just shuffled further into Courfeyrac’s side. 

“Enjolras, will you please back me up here?”

But Enjolras was starting at the kitten with huge, love-struck eyes. “Ferre...” he said helplessly, shrugging his shoulders. “Ferre, we could.” 

“Oh come on!”

“No, think about it,” Courfeyrac interrupted, “we’d be rescuing her. And if shes anybody’s cat then there’s people that have seen me with her and they’d come calling.” 

Enjolras nodded enthusiastically, kneeling down beside him and clicking his fingers softly to get her attention. 

When she nuzzled into his hand happily he laughed, scratching her behind her ears. 

“Please, Ferre?” He begged. 

Combeferre still didn’t look impressed but he rolled his eyes anyway, storming back into the kitchen. 

“He didn’t say no.” Courfeyrac whispered excitedly. 

“We can keep her for a trial run.” Combeferre said irritably, keeping his back turned away. What he didn’t realise was that they could both see the slight smile on his face through his reflection in the window. 

“She needs a name first.” Enjolras said happily, tapping his finger lightly over her nose. 

“We are  _ not  _ giving her some ridiculous name either,” Combeferre warned, “Courf? I’m talking to you.” 

“Okay, okay,” he said defensively, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll stay out of it.” 

“Grantaire would give her some stupid name like Apollo,” Enjolras muttered, shaking his head. 

The cat’s ears pricked up at the name, her bright eyes sparkling. 

“Apollo?” Courfeyrac repeated in glee, scratching behind her ears, “you like that?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” Enjolras protested, slapping his knee forcefully. “Ferre, tell him!” 

“Oh, so now you want my opinion, do you?” Combeferre said wickedly, unloading the shopping bags, “I’m sorry Enj, but you’re in this on your own.” 

“Apollo it is!” Courfeyrac yelled, picking her up and letting her crawl up onto his shoulder. “And you can thank Enjolras here for that,” he told her. 

“I hate you.” Enjolras grumbled, burying his face in the sofa cushions. 

“Sure you do.” 

He turned to Combeferre, setting Apollo gently down beside Enjolras, and hopped onto the kitchen counter. Combeferre swatted at him to get down but his order was obviously ignored. 

“Can we take her on a walk?” 

Both Enjolras and Combeferre let out very obvious sighs of disappointment and the latter pushed him off of the counter. 

“What?” He protested, stealing a biscuit from the jar that Combeferre had just emptied a tray of cookies into. He received a swat to the back of his head and rolled eyes. 

“Just go make dinner.” He sighed. 

“Why?” 

“You really want to ask me that now?” 

He debated it. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter was late, sorry   
> Which means I have have to write 2 in one day so yay, go me! 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4: 17th December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the (many) things that Enjolras and Courfeyrac aren’t allowed to do whilst Combeferre is out, or really just in general, is bake. 
> 
> Combeferre is out.

“Enjolras!” Courfeyrac hollered down the hallway. 

He stood still, waiting for the other man’s reply. When it never came he sighed, stomping down to Enjolras’s room, where he was laying on his bed with earphones in and a book in his hand. 

How he managed to do both without being distracted, Courfeyrac would never know. 

“Enjolras.” He repeated, still just as loud, and he reached over to tug the earphones out of his ears. Enjolras rolled his eyes, putting his book down in annoyance. 

“I’ve had an idea,” he started,

“No.” Enjolras cut in, already reattaching his earphones and picking up his book. Courfeyrac swatted it out of his hands. 

“Hey. At least hear me out.” 

“Interrupt my reading again and this book will become a lethal weapon. And no.” Enjolras repeated, “whatever it is, it will not end successfully.”

“That’s because your idea of successful is very different to mine.”

“I don’t think anyone can say that ending up in A&E at half three in the morning after  your  idea to go on a midnight walk, would be successful.”

“I didn’t see the branch.” Courfeyrac protested, which was very much true. It had quite literally popped out of nowhere and then all of a sudden he’d been on the floor. 

It turns out he hasn’t broken his wrist, like he was convinced he had, but that wasn’t the point. 

“You didn’t have to agree.” Courfeyrac said in defence, sitting on the edge of his bed heavily. 

“We didn’t.” Enjolras said flatly. 

Oh yeah. He’d forgotten about that part.

“Whatever,” he said hastily, “anyway my idea is-“

“-No, Courf-“

“-I think we should bake something for Combeferre when he gets back.” 

Enjolras blinked. 

“What’s the one thing we’re not allowed to do?” 

Courfeyrac thought on it, his mind flicking through pages and pages of things he’d been banned from doing. 

“Cook.” He decided on. He didn’t see Enjolras’s point. 

“Specifically?” 

“Bake.” 

Enjolras held a hand out as if to say ‘there you go.’ 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, flopping backwards on the bed so that his head was resting against Enjolras’s knees. 

“Yeah, he  _ said  _ we’re not allowed but that doesn’t mean we  _can’t_. ” 

“We can’t.” Enjolras sighed. 

“Don’t be so uptight.”

“No, I mean we genuinely cannot bake for the life of us.” 

“No one gets anywhere without practice.” He said pointedly, grinning up at him. 

Enjolras ignored him. 

“Combeferre let me cook yesterday.” He said slyly. He let his eyes wander around Enjolras’s room and he pointed at a book laying on his windowsill. “What’s that?” He added. 

“That’s a book, Courfeyrac.” Enjolras said slowly, as if he thought Courf was stupid. Which, again, was obviously not the case. “And he helped you yesterday. And by ‘helped’, I mean regretted his choice to ever let you even attempt and did it all for you instead.” 

Courfeyrac ignored the last part of his answer and reached a hand back to gently hit Enjolras in the face. “I know it’s a book.” He said bluntly, “I mean which book? What’s it about?” 

He honestly didn’t care one bit what book it was, but he was trying to get Enjolras in a good mood so that he would agree to help him. Truthfully, he could probably do it by himself anyway but that would just be boring. Plus, whatever went wrong would them only be able to be blamed on him. 

Enjolras, however, saw straight through his plan and shoved him off of the bed. 

“Stop pretending to be interested, Courf. I’m not helping you.” 

“Fine.” He said from the floor, scrambling up on his feet “I’ll do it by myself.” 

“You will not.” Enjolras scoffed, “you’re not going anywhere near any of Combeferre’s baking stuff.” 

“ _ Our  _ baking stuff, Enj, we all live here.” 

“Yes, but  _ some of us  _ have been banned from baking.” 

“Oh that sucks,” Courfeyrac grinned, already half way out of the door. “Why did he ban you?” 

Before he left, he stuck his head back around the door to catch one last glance of Enjolras’s exasperated face. “Oh and for the record,” he added, “if you’re going to make a habit of pushing me off the bed, will you get carpet?” 

“Why?” Enjolras muttered, “did the floorboards hurt. Because good.”

“No. They’re just ugly.” 

“You have floorboards!” Enjolras yelled as he ran down the hallway again. He pushed open the kitchen door and purposely made an excessive amount of noise as he took all of the baking equipment out of the cupboards. 

“Wow, that’s a big bag of flour!” He said loudly, letting it drop to the counter, “I hope I don’t spill it!” 

He tilted his head towards to the door, listening for the footsteps he knew would accompany. Within seconds, Enjolras was storming through the door, his arms folded. 

“Oh, have you come to help?” He asked innocently, almost spilling the sugar as picked it up too energetically. Enjolras grumbled under his breath and snatched it from his hands, placing it on the counter with more force than necessary. 

“That was violent.” He added. 

The glare Enjolras shot him could have killed. 

“I’m supervising.” He said, sitting down heavily behind the counter. 

Courfeyrac grinned and pulled a cooking book out of the cupboard, dropping it on the counter in front of Enjolras. 

“What are we baking then?”

“Preferably nothing.” Enjolras grumbled, glaring at him. 

“Chocolate chip cookies it is, I guess.” He said, “thanks for the suggestion, Enj.” 

“I didn’t...oh whatever.” Enjolras sighed heavily, resting his chin defeatedly on his hand. 

He lined all of the ingredients up, humming under his breath as he did so, and could feel Enjolras’s eyes trained straight at him. He smirked to himself, unable to keep a straight face, and dared to look up. 

He immediately burst into laughter as Enjolras instantly looked away. He knew he wanted to help, it was so obvious, but he wasn’t about to let Courfeyrac win. 

But because he was such a generous, kind, observant, caring (and really that list could just keep going because he did  not  get enough recognition, he thought) person, he decided to put Enjolras out of his misery. 

“Hey Enjolras,” he said sweetly, “will you please help me?” 

Enjolras narrowed his eyes for a moment and then he straightened his shoulders out. 

“Fine.” He said, “but only because it’s obvious that out of the two of us, you’re the one with lesser skills.” 

Courfeyrac smiled sarcastically at him, rubbing his hand in the flour on the counter sneakily and then clapping Enjolras on the shoulder, smearing four on the sleeve of his red jumper. “Thanks, you’re so kind.” 

To his delight, Enjolras didn’t notice. 

“Hand me the flour will you?” 

“Absolutely!” 

Enjolras gave him a weird look; something between irritation and amusement, maybe a mixture of both, and let out a little chuckle. Obviously it was completed with an eye roll, but that was irrelevant. 

He weighed it out, spilling a fair amount, which of Courfeyrac took great pleasure in pointing out. 

“Let me do the butter?” He asked, grabbing it out of Enjolras’s hands. Enjolras raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

It wasn’t until then that Courfeyrac really understood the term ‘butterfingers.’ Because butter was apparently very slippy. 

It slipped from between his fingers the second he got hold of it and landed with an ‘splat’ sound in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

He stared sadly at it for a moment and then looked up at Enjolras, who was laughing at him. “Smooth.”

“Don’t laugh at me.” 

“I’m not.” Enjolras spluttered, his face making very odd expressions as he tried to contain his laugher. When he finally settled down he wiped at his eyes and let out a long breath. 

“That was literally not funny.” Courfeyrac deadpanned. Which was true; it wasn’t funny. 

“No,” Enjolras agreed, “but are you still so sure you’re so great at baking?” 

“Yes,” he insisted, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t be so rude. Let me have my moment.” 

Enjolras shook his head, rummaging around in the cupboard for another slab of butter.

“Can you reach?” Courfeyrac teased, leaning back against the counter to watch him struggle. 

Enjolras didn’t reply, but threw the butter at him harshly instead. He dodged out of the way, wondering how much it would have hurt to be hit by it, and grabbed it before Enjolras could. 

“Let me.” 

“Don’t drop it.” 

“I didn’t drop it last time.” He said stubbornly, attacking the butter much more viciously than needed with the knife, “it jumped.” 

“Pride is a dangerous thing,” Enjolras commented, watching him warily. 

“Yeah, well so is sleep deprivation, but I don’t hold that against you.” Courfeyrac shot back, looking up as Enjolras quickly stifled a yawn when he spoke. He grinned to himself and turned back to cutting the butter, jumping when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Enjolras snorted and nodded towards the door. “I’ll get it.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” 

He waited until he had left the room before quickly switching the jars that held the sugar and salt, wondering if Enjolras would notice. He reminded himself to switch them back before they actually continued, otherwise they would be baking very salty cookies. 

He followed Enjolras do the door where he was met with the sight of Grantaire. 

“Oh, hey R.” He said cheerfully, resting his chin on Enjolras’s shoulder. 

“Hi, Courf.” Grantaire smiled, giving him a wave from the doorway. 

“Don’t tell me you’re taking him?” He said, widening his eyes as if in fear and raising hand to his forehead. Enjolras rolled his eyes 

(If he got a pound for every time Enjolras did that he’d be a millionaire by now). 

“I wouldn’t be saying ‘yes’ anyway,” Enjolras scoffed, “I’m not leaving you alone with the oven.” 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to bake stuff?” Grantaire frowned, peering behind Enjolras to get a better view. 

“Change of plan.” He answered happily. 

“No,” Enjolras corrected, “he just doesn’t listen.” 

“You really have no power over him, do you?” R laughed, addressing Enjolras this time. 

“God, does anyone?” 

Courfeyrac pouted and flicked Enjolras on the back of the head. 

“Speaking of which, shouldn’t you two be getting back to that? Unless your goal is to set the fire alarm off?” Grantaire said, motioning to the kitchen. 

“Sorry, R, you’re just distracting us with your beauty.” He said solemnly.

Enjolras slapped his arm. 

“Hands off my boyfriend.” 

“We’ve been caught, dearest R!” He grinned, stretching his arm out so that his fingertips were inches away from Grantaire‘s. He smirked and joined his hand with Courfeyrac’s, a hand over his heart. 

“It can never be, sweet Courf. Not in this lifetime.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Enjolras said, trying to sound annoyed but there was a smile creeping up onto his face. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking.” Grantaire laughed, digging in his back pocket for something. He pulled out a flyer, handing it over to Enjolras with a flourish of his hand. 

“Ive finished the designs for the flyers you asked,” he said, “if they’re alright then you can just photocopy as many as you want?” 

Enjolras grinned and Courfeyrac peered over his shoulder to look at them. 

They were bright red with  ** LES AMIS DE L’ABC  ** printed in bold white, a cockade stamped in the middle and the time, date and details of the next rally written in gold beneath. 

“Very revolutionary.” Courfeyrac commented, nodding his head.

“They’re brilliant, Taire.” Enjolras thanked him, placing the flyer on the table next to the door so it wouldn’t be lost in the growing pile of letters and Christmas cards that were gathering on the kitchen side. “Thank you.” 

“It was nothing, really.” Grantaire waved away the thanks and blushed a deep red, practically the same colour as the flyer. 

“Anyway,” he said, “I’ve got to cover Éponine’s shift because she’s looking after Gav, so I have to get going.” He stepped off of the porch, saluting before he left, and wandered back down the driveway. 

Enjolras shut the door with a smile still on his face and Courfeyrac grinned at him, poking him in the shoulder. 

“What?” Enjolras said. 

“You’re so in love.” He laughed, pointing at the window where Grantaire was getting into his car. 

Enjolras shrugged, still smiling, and weighed out the sugar, adding it to the cookie mixture. Then he added a pinch of salt before bringing it over to the where they’d previously set out the whisk. 

“Can I put them in the oven?” Courfeyrac asked after they had placed each cookie on the tray. Enjolras sighed but handed tray over, throwing him a tea towel to wrap around his hand. 

When they were in, he joined Enjolras at the counter, watching the oven closely. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Why is it that when you’re waiting for something to cook, it always takes forever?” He asked sulkily, drumming his fingers on the counter. 

“We’ve only got a couple of minutes left now.” Enjolras sighed, checking his phone. “And Ferre should be home soon.” 

The timer on the oven beeped and Enjolras raved forwards to take them out. The smell of freshly bakes cookies filled the room and he let out a delighted sound, punching the air in success over the fact that they weren’t burned even in the slightest. 

“I think we’ve done a pretty good job.” He grinned, holding his hand out to Enjolras to high-five. He smiled and high-fived him back, bumping his shoulder against Courfeyrac’s. 

“Now, I’m not saying its a good idea to break any of Combeferre’s rules again, because he might kill us, but I’m sort of glad we did.” 

“Wow,” he laughed, “If Enjolras is approving of my ideas for once I must be doing something right.”

Enjolras chuckled to himself and leaned backwards in his chair. “Don’t push your luck.” 

The doorbell rang again, followed by inpatient knocking, and the both of them raced to open it, desperate to prove Combeferre wrong. 

Courfeyrac flung open the door so quickly that Combeferre almost lost his balance, stumbling backwards a little. 

“Missed me, have you?” He said, stepping into the hallway. He stopped short of the kitchen, turning slowly on the spot and pointing at something on the tip of Enjolras’s nose. 

“Is that flour?” He asked suspiciously, looking between the two of them. “I thought I said no baking.”

“Well-“ Enjolras started, but Courfeyrac cut in. 

“-Well, we did a very good job after all. Perfect cookies.” 

“Can you smell burning?” Ferre asked, sniffing around in the air. 

“It’s probably just me and Enj,” Courfeyrac said slowly, putting an arm around the blonde’s shoulder, who looked thoroughly confused, “‘cause were on fire!” 

Enjolras snorted and looked at him with disbelieving eyes. “That was shit.” He said, shaking his head. 

“No,” Combeferre said suddenly, 

“Exactly, see-“

“-No, something’s burning.” 

As if on cue, the smoke alarm started beeping, so loud that they had to shove their hands over their ears. 

“Did you not turn the oven off?” Enjolras hissed, pointing in the direction of the kitchen as Combeferre hurried to get rid of the smoke. 

“I was sat down!” Courfeyrac retorted, “I thought you did!” 

“Well clearly I forgot.” 

“No shit!” 

When they re-entered the kitchen Combeferre had opened the windows, scowling to himself. 

“This is why we say no baking.” 

“But look at our cookies...” Courfeyrac said quietly, his face falling. Combeferre sighed, picking one up. 

“They do look nice, I have to admit.” 

“Try one on the count of three?” Enjolras shrugged. 

They each grabbed a cookie, clinking them together like they were glasses, and took a bite at the same time. 

They also spat them out at the same time. 

He coughed in disgust, letting the cookie drop to the counter. 

“Why’s it so salty?” He spluttered, the taste still lingering in his mouth. 

Oh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in one day!!   
> (Let’s ignore the fact that it was my fauly) 
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed let me know!!   
> Thank you :)


	5. Day 5: 18th December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac just really wanted scrambled eggs...

”Enjolras.” 

Enjolras opened his eyes, attempting to accustom his eyes to the darkness. 

He blinked, trying to sort out what was what, when he realised there was someone stood over his bed. It was that feeling of dread that filled him where you were unable to fully see what was going. 

His stomach lurched and he scrambled for his phone, turning his torch on and frantically lighting up his room. 

“Fuck, Enj, my eyes!” Someone grumbled, putting a hand over the light and stumbling backwards. There was a crash and muffled swearing and then the bedroom light was flicked on, an angry Combeferre stood in the doorway. 

“Courfeyrac,” he growled, “What are you doing?” 

“You realise Enjolras is awake too? It’s not just my fault.” Courfeyrac said, leaning backwards so that he was resting against the side of the bed. Combeferre ignored him. 

“Yeah,” Enjolras snapped, his eyes stinging from the bright light, “I’m awake now that you decided to...what were you even doing?” 

Courfeyrac apparently decided not to answer that and instead wandered over to the windowsill where Apollo was sat. 

“Courfeyrac.” Combeferre repeated, stomping over to him.

“I can’t remember.” 

“Yes, whatever the reason it must have been so important if you couldn’t wait until morning?” Enjolras said sarcastically, folding his arms. 

“Are you aware of what time it is?” He carried on, taking Courfeyrac’s (unusual) silence as a chance to keep scolding him. Truthfully, he didn’t have a clue what time it was but it felt late and he assumed he was probably right. 

“Yes, it’s half past two in the morning.” 

He sighed, utterly confused at Courfeyrac’s lack of basic common sense, and flopped back down onto his pillow. “Turn that bloody light off.” He added, burying his face in the covers. 

“You two are so boring.” Courfeyrac said to himself, now sitting cross-legged on the floor with Apollo on his lap. 

(He was still furious with the name choice but that was irrelevant). 

“Oh, I’m so sorry for doing one of the general human basics to survive?” Combeferre said, screwing his face up as he spoke. He waved his hands around as he spoke, leaning tiredly against the doorframe. And whether that was physical or metaphorical tiredness also didn’t matter, if was likely to be both with Courfeyrac in the house. 

“Enjolras doesn’t sleep anyway.” Courfeyrac pointed out; which...well, it wasn’t strictly  _ untrue _ . 

Or, well, no he _did_ sleep. Just not very often and usually not in consecutive hours but Courfeyrac was not getting his own way in this one. 

Honestly, sometimes he wondered if they genuinely should worry about Courfeyrac. Because as strange as it was, usually he would say something ridiculous, proceed to act on said ridiculous thing and end up in trouble and yet it never really occurred to himself and Combeferre that maybe they should stop him. 

Actually, no. No, they would initially try and talk him out of it but he of course wouldn’t listen and do it anyway. But other than that they really didn’t put up that much of a fight. Although this was  not  their fault, don’t get that confused, but it happened so often that it was easier to just sigh and prepare the first aid kit. 

Like Grantaire often said, no one had any power over Courfeyrac. 

But, anyway, he was getting really off-track. 

“Shut up, Courf.” He said, sighing loudly. “And will you get out of his room, please?” Combeferre added, grabbing Courfeyrac’s elbow and hoisting him up. 

“Why do you get to speak for him?” 

“I don’t think he’s going to disagree with me.” He said tiredly, pointing in the direction of the door. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes. I do.” 

As he scrambled out of the room, waving a cheerful but completely unnecessary goodbye to Enjolras (he did not receive a similar reply) he suddenly froze, turning around to face them with wide eyes. 

“Um,” he said, shifting his weight between his feet. Enjolras knew that something was not going to be happening in their favour. 

“What is it?” He said through gritted teeth, running through the possibilities in his mind. Would be fearing that as they spoke the apartment was burning down be considered as too extreme? 

“Do we own a fire extinguisher?” 

“Courfeyrac.” Ferre warned, exhaling sharply. 

“I remember why I came in here.” 

“Yes?” 

“The kitchen’s...ah, it’s on, um, fire?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“How the hell did you forget that minor detail?” Enjolras hissed as they hurried to the kitchen, the smell of smoke immediately filling his nostrils as they opened the door. 

“I’m tired, okay?” Courfeyrac replies defensively, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Yes. I am too now that you had to get us up because you set the bloody kitchen on  _fire_.” 

“Well I obviously didn’t do it on  _ purpose  _ did I?” Courfeyrac retorted, rolling his eyes so hard they were in danger of falling out of his head. “I didn’t wake up and think ‘wow, today is a good day to make the apartment nice and toasty.’”

“This is the second time in two days. You’re not even allowed in the kitchen.”

“Who said I did it?” 

Enjolras blinked. 

“You did!” 

“No. I said the kitchen was on fire. I never specified it was me.”

“What? Did a burglar decide that instead of robbing us they’d burn us to death in our sleep?” 

“That’s a little extreme.” Courfeyrac snorted, waving in the direction of the, admittedly, quite small flame. “And I’d say that if they did that they were more of a serial killer type person than a-“

“Will you two shut up!” Combeferre shouted over the beeping of the smoke alarm, which had conveniently only decided to set off now they already knew about the fire. 

Well. Enjolras decided that his ‘burning the apartment down’ theory really wasn’t that absurd after all.

He grabbed a tea towel and ran it under cold water, chucking it at Combeferre who dropped it onto the frying pan which was still cracklings with flames. As they finally were put out, he collapsed onto a stool, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. 

“What were you doing?” He asked. 

“I just wanted some scrambled eggs.” Courfeyrac said sadly, pointing at the blackened mess in the frying pan. 

“I thought you didn’t like scrambled eggs?” Enjolras piped in, determined to get Courfeyrac into as much trouble as possible. 

Combeferre really was just like both of their mothers and Enjolras was currently feeling like the younger sibling desperate to win a victory over the other. 

“I don’t.” Courfeyrac said simply, shooting Enjolras a dark glare, “but they always look really nice and I wanted to try and like them.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

“Well, I’m going back to bed,” Combeferre announced, already taking his glasses off of his face. 

“No, no, wait!” Courfeyrac shouted, practically leaping out of his seat to stop him. When Combeferre paid him no attention and carried on walking, he jumped onto his back, his legs wrapping themselves securely around his waist. Combeferre shook himself, attempting to get him to fall off, but Courf clung on with surprising strength. 

Enjolras watched the scene unfold whilst thinking that it was like something out of a comedy show and being unable to understand what he’d ever done to land himself in this situation. 

“Get off of me!” Combeferre said in a frustrated tone, slapping at the hands gripping his shoulders. 

“We can’t go back to sleep now.” Courfeyrac said solemnly, resting his chin on his shoulder. He sighed and slid off of his back, hopping up onto the counter instead.

“And why is that?”

“Smoke.” He answered, as if that solved their questions. 

“How observant.” Enjolras smirked. 

“No,” Courfeyrac huffed, pausing only a moment to side eye him, “I  _meant_ ,  surely it’ll be bad to breathe in all this smoke.”

“Smoke we wouldn’t have if you didn’t decide make eggs at fucking two in the morning that you can’t and don’t know how to cook.” Enjolras muttered under his breath. 

“What?” 

“Hmm?” he replied innocently, raising a single eyebrow. 

“I know how to cook eggs.” Courfeyrac said, folding his arms. He looked to Combeferre for confirmation but he looked quickly away, suddenly very interested in the cupboard door. 

“Oh, I mean not involving fire.” Enjolras clarified, indicating towards the frying pan still laying in the sink. 

”You’re hilarious, aren’t you?” 

“Enjolras,” Combeferre sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he opened his mouth to retort, “not helping.”

He settled for sticking his tongue out instead. 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Courfeyrac pressed on, “wouldn’t it make sense to go out somewhere for an hour or so whilst the smoke...evaporates?”

“Smoke doesn’t evaporate, Courf.” Combeferre said, sounding quite pained at his statement.

“You’re missing my point entirely.” 

“Because it’s not a good idea.” Enjolras deadpanned, his eyes beginning to droop with tiredness. 

“Well, I’m going out.” Courfeyrac decided, marching out of the kitchen and into the hallway to grab his coat. 

“Where?” 

Courfeyrac just flashed them a grin, doing up the laces on his yellow doc martins. 

“Well, bye then.” Enjolras yawned, standing up to go back to bed. As he firmly shut his bedroom door he heard the beep of the front door closing and a deep sigh that came from Combeferre. 

He was just about to close his eyes, attach his ear phones to help him sleep, when his light was flicked on once again. He sat up, glaring straight at Combeferre who was now stood in his doorway, one hand still resting against the light. 

“What?” He snapped, hitting pause on his phone. 

“Oh come on,” Ferre said calmly, nodding his head in the direction of the hallway. “You can’t really expect him to find his way back in the dark.” 

“Go after him then if you’re that concerned.” 

“And you’re going to stay here alone?” 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, looking at him incredulously. 

“Ferre, I’m twenty-two years old. I can stay by myself.” 

“Well, obviously. But, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be fun?” 

He wondered vaguely if maybe Courfeyrac had stolen the real, sensible Combeferre and hidden him away somewhere and replaced him with this much too Courf-ified replica. 

In fact, when he voiced as much he was met with a laugh and rolled eyes, only contributing to his theory. 

“No it would not be fun.” He said stubbornly, laying back down and turning on his side. “It would be cold and late and dark and we’d all get lost.” 

“Don’t be such a spoilsport.” Combeferre said, sounding much to like Courfeyrac for his liking. 

“I’m really considering handing you into the FBI because he’s managed to successfully clone you.” He mumbled, voice muffled by his duvet. 

“This is just what Christmas does to me.” Combeferre said, and Enjolras could hear the grin in his voice. “But don’t worry, in the new year I’ll be back to my sensible, smart self.” 

“Ah, so you admit this is a stupid idea then?” 

“Of course it’s a stupid idea,” he laughed, “but that’s the whole point.” 

He groaned and sat up again, flicking his hair out of his face. 

“Courfeyrac‘s probably already left. He has no patience.” 

“I think you’re the one with no patience,” Ferre corrected, “but Courf’s out there waiting on the front step. I saw him through the window earlier. He’s waiting for us.” 

“Good. Let him freeze to death.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re ridiculous.” 

Combeferre sighed, switching his light off again, apparently won over. Enjolras rolled over, grinning at his victory when he heard, 

“Suit yourself, Scrooge.” 

“I’m not a Scrooge!” He protested, throwing the covers off of himself. 

“Oh yeah?” Combeferre teased, “prove it.” 

He debated it for a moment, longing for the comfort of his warm bed but at the same time completely convinced he was  not a Scrooge. 

It only looked that way because he lived with Courfeyrac; who was quite literally the personification of Christmas, and Combeferre who with even a fraction of that spirit would be more enthusiastic than the average person. 

But he was _not_ being labelled a Scrooge. No matter what the circumstance. 

“You owe me big time.” He grumbled as hell stormed past Combeferre, who pumped the air in victory, and snatched his coat up front the hook. 

~~~~~~

The night was sort of strangely relaxing; crisp coldness but with that freshness of only late night or early morning, when no one else was about. 

“Enjolras?” Courfeyrac grinned, throwing an arm around his shoulder, eyes already watering from the cold. 

“Don’t act so surprised.” He muttered, “I’m only here to supervise.” 

“That’s what you said yesterday and remember how that turned out?” Courfeyrac giggled, flinging his other arm around Combeferre, although that was admittedly a stretch as he was much taller. 

“So where are we going?” Ferre asked as they wandered the empty streets. Enjolras frowned, blowing into his hands to warm them up. He really should have brought gloves. 

“One word; ice cream.” Courfeyrac said loudly, pointing to a little shop with fairy lights strung up around the roof and in the windows, white and green Christmas trees just about visible from inside. 

“That’s...two words, but we appreciate the enthusiasm, Courf.” Combeferre smirked, pushing open the door, followed by a little tinkle. 

As they approached the counter, the guy behind looked up in surprise, blinking a few times. 

“Oh.” He said quietly, putting his phone back into his pocket. “I wasn’t expecting customers this late. This is odd.” 

“You’re open for a reason, aren’t you?” Enjolras said grumpily, before either Courfeyrac or Combeferre could laugh at the guy who was ridiculously unfunny. 

He glared at Ferre, who had just stamped on his foot to tell him to be quiet. 

“Sorry, he’s tired.” He said apologetically as Enjolras stomped over to a table and sat down heavily, chin resting on his hand. 

He watched as the other two ordered (Courfeyrac will a stupidly sweet-looking thing) and joined him at the table. 

“That guy’s hot,” Courfeyrac said, happily munching away on his (multi-coloured?) ice cream. “And Ferre, why did you get vanilla? That’s boring.” 

“It’s quarter past three, Courf. I’m not even hungry I just felt rude not ordering.” 

“Yeah, well, tell that to Enjolras.” 

“He’s not hot.” Enjolras mumbled, mainly to himself, as Courfeyrac laughed at him and his half closed eyes. 

“He is, you haven’t even looked at him.” 

“Yes I have.” He dropped his head to the table, sneaking a glance up when no one was looking. 

It was true, the guy  was  hot; olive skin and brown hair tied roughly up into a ponytail, a gold nose piercing and bright hazel eyes. 

“Grantaire’s hotter.” He concluded stubbornly. 

“Can’t fault you on that one.” Courfeyrac snorted. 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, leaning into Combeferre. 

“Do you have money?” He asked quietly, not wanting Courfeyrac to hear. He saw Ferre take a sharp, quick breath and shake his head. 

“Shit.” He whispered. “I’ve forgotten.” 

Enjolras nodded and grinned. 

“Watch this,” he murmured, “and just say yes.” 

Combeferre nodded, looking very confused. 

“Do you guys both have money?” He asked, an idea forming in his head. It was foolproof actually, and a way to get Courf back. And anyway, if it didn’t work he had money himself so he could easily pay. 

Combeferre nodded very unconvincingly but luckily Courfeyrac was too busy scraping the last contents of his ice cream out of the tub and he nodded distractedly, patting the side of his jeans. 

“Hey Courf,” he said slyly, trying to keep a straight face, “you know they do that special soap you love here?” 

Courfeyrac looked up, sitting straighter, with wide, puppy-like eyes. “The one that smells like chocolate oranges?” 

“Yeah, that one.” 

He squealed in delight and jumped out of his chair, racing down the corridor to the bathrooms. 

Combeferre looked at him confusedly but Enjolras just grabbed him by the elbow, grinning the whole time. 

The guy behind the counter looked up, probably wondering if they were going to just leave without paying, but Enjolras smiled sweetly up at him. The guy looked taken-aback, and for some reason concerned, but tilted his head. 

“He’ll pay. He’ll be a second.” He gestured towards the bathrooms and the guy nodded, going back to adding up the price, which admittedly wasn’t very much but whatever. 

As he and Combeferre hurried outside, they saw Courfeyrac leaving the bathroom. His face has fallen and he looked sort of grumpy-probably because there was none of his favourite soap-but his face fell even more when he was presented with the check. 

He glared at them both through the windows, his eyes never leaving them even as he signed and handed over the money. 

“That was a good idea.” Combeferre laughed 

“I know.” 

“He’s going to kill you though.” 

“...I know.”


	6. Day six: 19th December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how much they deny it, Enjolras and Courfeyrac are the world’s biggest cheaters.
> 
> Especially when it comes to Monopoly.

“Ferre?” 

Combeferre looked up, halfway through loading dishes into the dishwasher. Enjolras was looking suspiciously around the kitchen, checking every inch of room for something. 

“Hm?” 

“Where’s Courfeyrac?” 

He was about to say that surely Courf was in the living room or the bathroom, even his bedroom, but the words stuck in his throat. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall seeing Courfeyrac at all since dinner. 

“You know, I really don’t have a clue.” he frowned, straightening himself up to stretch his back. “It’s quiet though, isn’t it?”

“That can’t be anything good.” Enjolras said cautiously, his eyes flickering around the room. “Last time he vanished so suddenly he’d found...oh no.” 

And somehow Combeferre knew exactly what he was talking about. 

The board games. 

The dreaded board games. 

Courfeyrac had a tendency to be a tad over-dramatic when it came to playing those sort of things, ‘tad’ being an understatement, and himself and Enjolras has sort of silently made a deal to hide them out of his reach. 

In fact, they’d only brought the board games a long because, well, because Courfeyrac had found them. 

Enjolras turned around in his seat, eyes wide. 

“You don’t think he’s found...?” Combeferre asked uncertainly, setting the plate he was holding down quickly. He turned around, running a hand through his hair, getting a few bubbles of soap on his nose. 

“No. No, surely not. We hid them in the spare room, right?” Enjolras said hurriedly, although there was something about the way he spoke so quickly that gave him the impression that he thought exactly the opposite. He certainly did himself, anyway. 

He nodded, listening out for any sort of noise that could direct them towards Courfeyrac’s unknown whereabouts. Just the fact that they couldn’t hear him (because just trust him on this one, it was a very rare and concerning occasion) was enough to set him on edge. Or, as on edge as you could be whilst growing up around Courfeyrac and, a lot of the time, Enjolras. 

Not much surprised him anymore. 

There was a sudden crash from down the hallway and the pair of them turned towards the sound-which appeared as though it  was  coming from the spare room-and let out a deep sigh. 

“Well,” Enjolras said tiredly, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper, “let’s get this over with.” 

They hurried out of the kitchen, now locating for certain that it was indeed the spare room that the chaos was coming from, and pushed open the door.

“Courfeyrac.” He said calmly, which was really an achievement these days, “What are you doing?” 

Courfeyrac stood uo from where he’d been practically completely under the bed. The lampshade next to him was knocked over and he assumed that was what had attracted their attention. 

“Look, guys.” He grinned, holding up a box of something that looked all too familiar. And not in a good way. “Monopoly.” 

“No. Absolutely not.” Enjolras said immediately, attempting to prise the box out of Courfeyrac’s vice-like grip. As he result, he was hit around the head with it. He stumbled backwards, rubbing at his head, and nudged Combeferre to do something instead. 

“You’re the adult here.” Enjolras muttered, propelling him forwards. 

“All three of us are adults.” He retorted grumpily, but decided to negotiate, or attempt to, with him anyway. 

“Look Courf,” he sighed, tapping the box, “the game takes forever. And it’s not even that good-“

“-Lies.” He interrupted instantly, shaking his head wildly. “And anyway, I’m so bored.” 

“Can’t you find something else to do?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? Now please will you play monopoly with me before I kill one of the pedestrians walking past our window for entertainment?” 

Combeferre was only half sure he was joking. 

“Enjolras will.” He said instantly. 

“No I fucking will not.” Enjolras snapped, stamping on his foot, “only if Ferre does too.” 

“Oh, that’s not fair.” 

“You two still owe me for leaving me in the ice cream shop yesterday.” Courfeyrac pointed out, raising a single brow. “You made me pay.” 

Combeferre weighed out his options; play an excruciatingly long game of monopoly ugh two of the worlds most competitive people (yes, Enjolras was almost as bad) or have to put up with Courfeyrac’s incessant grumbling for the rest of the night if he refused. 

Both sounded equally like torture. 

“Whatever. Fine.” He said eventually, already storming out of the room, “but you’re setting it up.”

“You’re not going to regret this!” He heard Courfeyrac squeal to Enjolras, who scoffed and replied with;

“I already am.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later and they were still playing the bloody game. 

Combeferre was growing increasing more frustrated as the time drew on, outside already pitch black, and he just really wanted a glass of wine and to go to bed. 

And he was almost entirely sure that either Courfeyrac just didn’t know how to play Monopoly or he was purely just a massive cheater. He was pretty sure it was the latter. 

“I should have never agreed to this,” he said tiredly, not even concentrating on winning anymore. (He totally was though, only Courf’s  _ cheating  _ was ruining it) 

“Why? It’s fun?” Courfeyrac smirked, picking up a card as he landed on the space and reading it only to himself. 

He reached over and grabbed a hotel from the bank-which Combeferre was managing-and placing its triumphantly on a property that lost definitely was not his own. 

“Courf,” he groaned, “you can’t just take hotels from the bank without paying for them?” 

“Why not?” He argued, keeping a firm hold of it? “And anyway, the card said I could.” 

“They never say that.” 

“Well mine did.”

“Show me.” 

“...No.” 

As he continued scolding Courfeyrac, who was definitely not going to relent on his case, he noticed Enjolras’s hand sneaking forwards to steal a couple thousand pounds in a cash when he thought no one was looking. 

“Enjolras.” He warned. 

“Yes, Ferre?” 

He sighed and snatched the money from Enjolras’s hands, dumping it rather viciously back onto the piles and slapping his hand away as he tried to grab it again. 

“That’s not how the game works!” He said frustratedly, deciding that he now needed to hide the board games away from both Courfeyrac  _ and  _ Enjolras-no matter how often the latter tried to protest that he didn’t cheat. “You can’t just steal from the bank.”

“Well the bank needs better security then.” 

“This is going to end in a civil war.” He muttered to himself, glaring at the colourful paper bills. 

“Revolution.” Enjolras corrected, smiling innocently at him. 

“Please just kill me now.” 

“That depends on if you’re winning or not,” Courfeyrac said thoughtfully, stroking his chin like a comedic villain in a cartoon, “it would be a waste otherwise.” 

“Yeah, well take your time deciding why don’t you?” Combeferre rolled his eyes, wondering what he’d ever done wrong to he landed with such annoying best friends. 

“I’ll kill Courfeyrac for free.” Enjolras said under his breath, flicking Courf’s counter back a few spaces when he wasn’t looking. 

“That’s only because I’m winning.” He smirked, frowning at his counter as he realised he was on a property that he hadn’t landed on. 

“That’s mine, by the way.” Enjolras added, tapping the square. “You owe me a hundred and fifty.” 

“...You moved me back.” 

“Did not.” 

“You did, I saw you.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Enjolras stated in an attempt to be nonchalant, but failed miserably. Courfeyrac glared at him before handing the money over, setting it down with unnecessary force. 

Combeferre seriously considered just setting the board on fire. 

As Enjolras and Courfeyrac continuously squabbled he stood up, walking into the kitchen to pour himself a strong drink to help him get through the torture that was his friends’ childishness. 

He realised that neither of them had even noticed he’d left, and if they had they didn’t seem to care, so he shrugged and nodded walked straight through the middle of them and into the hallway. 

Again, neither of them noticed. 

As he collapsed into bed, blissfully relaxed, he heard frantic footfalls and his door was burst open. 

“Ferre, Courfeyrac’s cheating again!”

“I am not! Enjolras took one of my hotels!”

“You had five! And you’d didn’t pay for any.”

Combeferre just knew he was going to wake up with a headache. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is much shorter that usual I’m so tired 
> 
> Thanks for reading (still) <3333


	7. Day seven: 20th December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras has never been to a Christmas market, despite always wanting to.
> 
> Apparently there’s one down the road

When Enjolras was younger he used to watch the people on his street get themselves for the Christmas Market. 

They used to string up lights and set up huge tables full of so many different foods that he’d never seen before, the smell of mulled wine (which, admittedly, he didn’t like back them) and gingerbread able to be smelt just from when he opened his door. 

Through the day people would come and go, buying little ornaments and decorations for their trees and front gardens or meeting up with family and friends and taking pictures to be printed out. It was beautiful, really. 

But at night it was like something out of a children’s story book. Or at least it seemed that way back then. Because lanterns would like the pavement and the trees would be lit up with pretty lights, the snow making the pavement glisten. There would be music blasting out of speakers and so many children his age running around with candy canes and marshmallows and all the things he never had. 

He’d wanted to go so badly each year that he’d begged and pleaded and even tried to sneak out of the windows as he grew up more. But eventually he came to realise that maybe Christmas just wasn’t for him. He’d not been aware of the gaslighting and bad parenting back then and he’d just assumed he was a bad kid, that the bruises under his eyes and on his jaw were his own fault. 

He’d finally worked up the courage this year to tell his parents he wasn’t coming back, he was never going back. 

So when he caught wind that there was going to be one held around the corner from the apartment, he could have cried with happiness. 

There was a knock on his bedroom door and he jumped up from where he was attempting to hang tinsel over his window whilst simultaneously peering out of it to watch the passers by, that could only be people preparing for the market, direct huge vans around the corner. 

He rushed to the door, flinging it wide open and grabbing Combeferre, who had just opened his mouth to begin to speak, and pulling him over the window. 

“Look,” he said excitedly, jabbing his finger at the people outside, “Ferre, there’s going to bea Christmas market tonight! Can we go? Please?” 

Combeferre let out a deep laugh, putting an arm around his shoulder. 

“I just came to ask you that,” he said, handing Enjolras a flyer with the details on it. Enjolras grinned, leaning towards the door. 

“Courfeyrac!” He shouted, Combeferre wincing as he yelled right down his ear. “Sorry.” He added. 

Courfeyrac appeared within seconds, forsome reason that Enjolras couldn’t think of, with a small bauble hanging from his ear in place of an earring. 

“Yes?” He noticed the two of them stood by the window and skipped over, “who are we spying on?”

Enjolras thrust the flyer at him, practically bouncing where he stood. Courfeyrac scanned the page, his eyes lighting up at the word ‘ _Christmas_.’ 

“And we’re going, right?” He said, far too calmly for Enjolras’s liking. He felt that if they said no, they would find themselves being dragged there in the middle of the night. A calm Courfeyrac was _not_ a good thing.

Enjolras just grinned, nodding his head enthusiastically, and practically danced out of the door. 

~~~~~~~~

“Yeah, no. I am not wearing that.” Combeferre scoffed three hours later as Courfeyrac and himself cornered him in the with a Christmas jumper. 

And as far as ugly Christmas jumpers went, Enjolras would say this particular one wasn’t even that bad. It was white with red bobbles and said ‘ _merry Christmas_ ’  in sparkly green writing. Either way it was much better than Courfeyrac’s; bright green with a huge Grinch face, and he was now sporting a pair of large earrings in the shape of birds, suspiciously similar to the ones they’d put on the tree a few days ago. 

Enjolras himself was of course dressed in a red jumper that said , _‘let it snow_ ’  in white sparkles. Cringey, sure, but hey it was Christmas. 

“You don’t really have a choice,” Courfeyrac said gravely, measuring out the jumper against him as Combeferre grew incredibly more distasteful. “Either you wear it or you don’t come with us.” 

“What? So you’ll lock me in, will you?” He snorted in reply, “You do realise I can get out?” 

“Courfeyrac has all three sets of keys.” Enjolras inputted, trying not to laugh as Courfeyrac slowly held up said keys, his face showing not an inch of emotion. 

It was like something out of a movie. 

“How did you-“ Combeferre said, reaching into the pocket in his jeans where he kept his keys in disbelief. 

“I have my ways.” 

There was a moment of silence where Combeferre frowned at the two of them disapprovingly and Courfeyrac beamed up at him. 

“Go without me and try find your way there, why don’t you? You can’t even find your way to the cafe two minutes away from us.” Combeferre smirked, leaning back against the counter. 

“Go right at the end of the road.” Courf said quickly, holding out his hand to Enjolras like he expected him to slap it in achievement. He internally sighed. 

“Left at the end of the road.” Ferre corrected, amused, raising a brow. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

He turned to Enjolras with a sigh, 

“This is what I mean.” 

“Courfeyrac and Christmas are basically the same thing,” Enjolras pointed out, “he’ll find his way there with his eyes closed.” 

“Statement approved.” Courfeyrac said proudly, promptly threading his arm through Enjolras’s. 

Combeferre seemed to debate this, eyes flicking between the door and the jumper, until he finally rolled his eyes and snatched it out of Courfeyrac’s hands. 

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth, “but only because it’ll be dark and no one will see us.” 

“Ah, such a great choice! It would really have been a shame to leave you behind.” Courfeyrac said loudly, grabbing Combeferre’s hand and twirling him found. Or at least attempting to, anyway. Enjolras wasn’t sure if if could really be considered a success considering he didn’t really twirl...he just sort of awkwardly shifted and whacked him over the back of the head. 

“I retract my statement,” Courfeyrac declared, marching Enjolras out of the door, “it wouldn’t be a shame at all.”

“Ferre! Hurry up!” Enjolras called, laughing as Courfeyrac jammed a wooly hat on his head. “Don’t push it,” he added under his breath. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” 

Combeferre hurried out of the kitchen and wearing, to their delight, the jumper. It looked delightfully stupid, but didn’t they all? 

It wasn’t late but it was already dark, the only light other than the moon being the ones from the windows of the neighbours and the street lamps that lined the pavement.

This was Enjolras’s favourite time of the year, favourite time of the day. 

In the summer he got all hot and burned too easily, the heaviness of the air making him grumpy and tired. But now he loved the feeling of wrapping up and being bundled under lots of layers and scarves. He loved when his breath came out in little visible puffs of air and the smell of hot coffee when and the relief and warmth it brought when he opened the door to a little cafe in the height of winter. 

“Come on,” he laughed, running down the street and leaving Courfeyrac and Combeferre behind. 

“Jesus Christ,” Courfeyrac spluttered, as the two of them rounded the corner, clutching at his side, “You’d think you’d never been to a bloody market before.” 

Enjolras tensed up a little but said nothing, offering him a small smile. Combeferre cleared his throat and nudged Courfeyrac lightly with his elbow, giving him a warning look. 

Courfeyrac bit his lip and widened his eyes apologetically, scrunching his face up. “Sorry,” he said awkwardly. 

“It’s fine. I haven’t.” 

“Well then,” said Courfeyrac, attempting his usual humour, “we’ll have to make this one the best market ever. C’mon.” 

As they rounded the street, Enjolras felt the breath stick in his throat. 

It was exactly like he’d remembered it as a child, only even better. 

“Oh my god.” He whispered. 

The streets were busy and full of people looking idly around, taking their time,some sporting Christmas hats and jumpers. Rows and rows of stalls lined the edges and were handing out anything from brownies to presents for dogs and the buzz of Christmas excitement was filling the air. 

He could smell a strange mixture of pine needles and mulled wine, along with herbs and spices from the stall they were stood next to. 

“This is a pretty good one.” Courfeyrac nodded, impressed. “I do have good taste.” 

Enjolras pulled a face. 

“Courf, I found it.” 

“Yeah, but technically it was still me.” 

“Under what circumstances?” He snorted, shaking his head. 

“Mine.” Courfeyrac answered simply. 

“I was the one with the flyer.” Combeferre mumbled, folding his arms. 

“Well, either way it’s irrelevant.” Courfeyrac said dismissively, waving his hand. He set off walking, gesturing for the others to follow him. 

“He only said that because he’s not the one who found it.” Combeferre smirked, peering around Enjolras’s shoulder to watch Courfeyrac. 

“Makes a change, at least.” 

“C’mon, we’d better catch up with him.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m  _freezing_.”  Courfeyrac whined, tugging on Enjolras’s sleeve and resting his head on his shoulder for effect. 

“There’s a cafe over there.” Enjolras sighed, rolling his eyes at Combeferre, who smirked. “I told you to bring a coat.” He added. 

“But then you wouldn’t be able to see my amazing jumper!” 

“I’m sure that’s the least of anyone’s concerns.” Combeferre laughed, guiding them towards the door. 

As they entered, the little bell over head tinkled and the person behind the counter looked up. 

“Jehan?” Combeferre said in surprise, “I didn’t know you worked here?” 

“I don’t.” Jehan said, standing up and walking round to greet them. Enjolras could have sworn that their jumper had literal Christmas lights wrapped around it. “I’m volunteering for a few nights whilst the market’s on.” 

“That’s sweet of you.” Combeferre said thoughtfully, smiling up at them. Jehan returned it, offering a menu. 

“It’s fun,” they said, hopping back over the counter, “and anyway, I love Christmas and this feels perfect to me. Drink?” 

“Just a coffee please,” Enjolras said, “Courfeyrac’s forced that much shit at me I don’t think I can stomach anything else sweet.” 

Jehan laughed and scribbled it down on the back of their hand, adding to the order as Combeferre requested the same. 

“Ferre, don’t be boring.” Courf said, “you can have coffee at home.”

“No I can’t,” Combeferre pointed out, “Enjolras drinks it all.” 

“Actually, that’s fair.” 

Jehan nodded themself, winking at Enjolras when he scoffed at Courfeyrac’s remark. “I can imagine.” they giggled, turning to Courf. “Let me guess; a hot chocolate?” 

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth as if he was about to disagree, but then debated it and nodded instead. “With marshmallows and whipped cream?”

Jehan laughed, taking three cups from a cupboard and busying themself with making the drinks. They waved a hand in the direction of the tables and said they could sit anywhere. 

As they seated themselves, Enjolras found himself inexplicably grinning. 

“What?” Courfeyrac laughed, leaning back in his chair. 

“Nothing,” Enjolras said, continuing to grin, “I’m just happy.” 

“Good.” Courfeyrac smiled, waving at Jehan as they looked up. Jehan waved back, rolling their eyes in amusement. 

“You know,” Combeferre said thoughtfully after a few minutes, “I still don’t know what you two want for Christmas.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” Enjolras said, “we’ve just moved into a new apartment. That’s our present.” 

“Enjolras, we  _ all  _ paid for the apartment. It wasn’t a gift to each other.” 

“It kind of is.” He argued, not wanting his friends to have to feel like they owed him a gift. 

“So you’re telling me you haven’t bought me and Ferre and gift?” Courfeyrac said slyly. And dammit, he  _ knew  _ Courf had seen him hiding them in his wardrobe last week.

“That’s different.” He said quickly, “and anyway that was supposed to be a secret.” 

“So, it’s settled then?” Courfeyrac added, speaking over Enjolras before he could argue. “We just getting each other surprised?” 

“Sure. I’m down for that.” Combeferre nodded happily. 

~~~~~~~

This probably continued for over an hour; sipping coffee and hot drinks with Jehan occasionally bobbing in and sitting down when there were no customers for them to serve. 

“I just don’t think you need to-“ Enjolras said stressfully before he suddenly broke off, staring out of the window in shock. 

“You going to finish your sentence or...?” Courfeyrac said sarcastically, kicking him under the table. 

“It’s snowing.” He said softly. 

“What?”

“It’s snowing.” He repeated, as if wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Yes?” Courfeyrac said impatiently, looking at him with wide eyes, “thank you for pointing that out.” 

“How long has it been snowing for?” 

“Pretty much since you sat down.” Jehan observed, pulling a chair up and sitting backwards on it, resting their chin on the back of the chair. “It’s been coming down pretty heavily, actually.” 

It had, had it? 

“Hey, where’re you going” Combeferre said as Enjolras stood up, already shrugging in his coat and winding his scarf that Joly knitted him last year around his neck. 

“It’s snowing.” He answered, already rushing out of the door. 

The scene he found outside would not have been out of place had it been found on a Christmas card. 

It must have been snowing harder than Jehan had made it out because already the streets were covered in fresh snow. There were children playing in it; making snow angels and throwing snowballs at each other, parents laughing fondly and keeping hot drinks between their hands to try and take in some of its heat. Night had already fallen earlier but now it had dropped further, meaning that the only light source was from the dozens of twinkling yellow lights that covered the stalls and fronts of houses nearby. 

He let out a laugh, turning around as Combeferre and Courfeyrac hurried out of the door and towards him. 

“We’ve not had a snowy Christmas in what? Eight years?” Combeferre smiled, putting an arm around him.

“God, we were kids!” Courfeyrac laughed, resting his chin on Combeferre’s shoulder. 

Enjolras smiled back. He’d been forced to grow up much too quickly, meaning he’d had little (if none) time to enjoy the thrill of childhood. Well, he’d not had much of that anyway. 

Seeing everywhere covered in snow like this, it was like he’d been given the chance to appreciate it all over again. And this time, with the people he loved. 

“Merry Christmas, guys.” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))))
> 
> HAPPY CHAPTER!!!   
> I mean they’re all happy because ITS CHRISTMAS but you get my point.
> 
> Thanks :)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, I know this chapter was mostly just descriptions, but I wanted to set the scene for the rest of this fic  
> I promise the next chapters will have more of a storyline  
> I’m trying to do an update per day (every day from now leading up until Christmas) but if that works it will be a literal miracle 
> 
> Anyway, expect regular updates at the least I guess :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos appreciated:))))


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